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was found in Brotherhood's pocket—at least, it was found in circumstances which made it quite clear that it had fallen out of his pocket, when the . . . when his body was being moved."

Miss Rendall-Smith took another look at the portrait, which still lay in her hands. "Then," she said, "what exactly do you want me to do about it?"

"Well, you must understand, of course, that we are very reluctant to open up any subject which may be painful to you. But at the same time, since it seemed likely that you had some knowledge of Brotherhood's history and circumstances which the world at large doesn't share, we thought perhaps you would tell us whether you can form any guess yourself as to the circumstances of his death. To put it in the concrete, do you know of any one who would have a motive for wishing ill to Brotherhood, or who might be likely to take his life?"

"I see. You want me to help justice. But you want me to help you, not the police."

"We are helping the police ourselves. Only the police are not always very—what shall I say?—the police don't always encourage help from outside; there is a good deal of red tape about their methods. I was in the Military Intelligence myself during the war, and had some opportunity of seeing the unfortunate effects of rivalry and jealousy between the various departments. We have not approached the police; we thought it best to work on our own until we could present them with a fait